


Learning to Smile

by Geekygirl24



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Child Neglect, Dubious Science, Hurt Illya, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geekygirl24/pseuds/Geekygirl24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern Au of the Man from U.N.C.L.E universe.</p><p>KGB files have revealed one of their darkest secrets...one that might threaten the new relationship between Illya and Napoleon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)

“Пожалуйста! (Please!)” Begged Subject 20, “Пожалуйста, не делайте этого! (Please do not do this!)”

The individual struggled against the restraints tying them to the medical bed. As a surgery light was shone over them, a suited man appeared at their side. “Я не знаю, почему вы расстроены . Вы помогают укрепить КГБ и, следовательно , Россия (I do not know why you're upset . You are helping to strengthen the KGB and, consequently, Russia)”

The young individual continued to sob and struggle, completely ignoring their superior. The suited man simply stared at them….no pity and no guilt for what he was about to do. 

He waved the doctor over, “Получить с ним ... дайте мне знать , когда это сделано (Get on with it….let me know when it’s done)”

He then strode out of the room, leaving the young individual screaming behind him. “НЕТ! Пожалуйста! (NO! Please!)”

As the doctor strode closer, gas mask in hand, the individual’s struggles intensified…even as the mask was placed over their face. The doctor felt no guilt at what he was going to do. “Обратный отсчет от десяти ... десять .... девять .... восьми- (Count down from ten….ten….nine…eight-)”

Before even finishing the number eight, the young individual’s eyes slipped shut and their sobs quietened off. Once sure that they were asleep, the doctor got to work.

Several hours later, he was pulling the last stitch shut and waving at the viewing window, gesturing to his superior that he could come in. Once the suited man entered, the doctor beamed. “Операция была Сукчес . За девять месяцев , вы будете иметь результаты (The operation was a success. In nine months, you will have your soldier.)”

The man nodded, pleased with the results. He then removed a revolver from his pocket and shot the doctor in the head. Upon hearing the bang, men stormed in….only to salute the superior agent. “Приберёмся… (Clean this up….)” he ordered, “…И принять пациента к своей новой комнате . Эксперимент начинается сейчас (…And take the patient to their new room. The experiment starts now.)”

………………………………………………………………..

The patient slowly blinked, their eyes quickly adjusting to the bright lights in the room. They tried to get up, only to fall back in pain, their hands brushing over fresh stitches on their stomach. “Нет… (No…).” They whispered in disbelief, staring down at the stitches, “…Пожалуйста, нет! (Please no!)”

They glanced around the room from their position on the bed. There was a TV opposite which was next to a bookcase. A couch was near another wall, which contained two doors. Each probably leading to either a kitchen or a bathroom.

They could see speakers in the corners of their room, and if they truly focused, they could see cameras near the bed and each doorway. Suddenly, the speakers crackled and a familiar voice came through. “Я надеюсь, что вам удобно . Это будет вашим домом в течение следующих девяти месяцев . Я предлагаю вам привыкнуть к нему а также не усложнять для нас (I hope you are comfortable. This will be your new home for the next nine months. I suggest you get used to it, and not make things difficult for us.)”

“Почему я? (Why me?)” Whispered the captured individual, “Что я когда-либо делал , чтобы заслужить это? (What have I ever done to deserve this?)”

“...Вы были там (…You were there)” 

With another crackle, the speakers went silent as the individual buried their head in their hands.


	2. The KGB secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)

The early morning sunlight shone through the blinds of Napoleon’s room, lighting up the walls with a red hue. Blearily, Napoleon opened his eyes, blinking in an attempt to wake himself up. Glancing at the alarm, he cursed silently at his body alarm clock...it was only 6:00am.

Feeling a familiar pressure on his chest, Napoleon ran his fingers through the blonde hair of his partner.

“Is too early…” grunted Illya, softly batting at the fingers, “…go back to sleep Cowboy.”

Napoleon chuckled, “Are you sure you wouldn’t to have a little fun before going to work…” his other hand began to work its way down the Russian’s back, “…I can think of a good way to pass the time.”

“You are incorrigible…”

Gently holding Illya’s wrist to the pillow, Napoleon twisted until he was on top of his partner, grinning down at the un-impressed scowl on Illya’s face. “That’s why you love me…” he chuckled.

“Do I?”

Humming, Napoleon lowered himself down in order to kiss his partner. However, as soon as their lips touched, his mobile began to ring.

“Now?” groaned Napoleon, “It rings now?!”

Illya shook his head as Napoleon fell sideways onto the mattress dramatically, reaching over to grab the phone. 

Napoleon quickly checked the screen before answering, “Agent Solo speaking.”

//Aah Mister Solo...\\\ came the familiar voice of Alexander Waverly, //…we have a bit of a situation down here. We’ll need you and Mister Kuryakin to come in immediately.\\\

“Of course Sir, we’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Hanging up, Napoleon groaned and sat up on the bed. “There had better be a World War about to break out if we have to come in at this time.”

“Would Mister Waverly not have been more panicked?”

“He’s British Peril, if I’d heard him refuse a cup of tea, then I’d be worried.”

Quickly, the pair got dressed and made their way to UNCLE headquarters. Upon arriving, they were immediately led to Waverly’s office, where Gaby stood waiting for them outside.

“Prepare yourself boys…” she sighed, “….this is a bad one.”

Napoleon and Illya exchanged concerned glances with one another before entering the office. As soon as they did, Napoleon tensed up.

Sitting opposite Waverly, was his old handler Sanders. The CIA had reluctantly handed Solo over to Uncle, but not without a fight….and rumours were that Sanders was not happy with this.

Seeing his lover tense up, Illya stepped slightly in front of him (which Napoleon rolled his eyes at). “What is reason for this?” grunted the Russian angrily.

Waverly waved his hand in a silent gesture for Illya to stand down. “We’re all friends here Mister Kuryakin. Please…sit down. Mister Sanders has something rather interesting to tell us.”

Keeping their eyes on Sanders, Illya and Napoleon took a seat next to each as Gaby perched on the edge of Waverly’s desk. 

Smirking slightly, Sanders pushed a CIA file towards the pair, “Ten years ago, the KGB set up an initiative…they wanted to create the perfect spy…or weapon, however you want to see it. This experiment would be done using the genetic samples of two agents…one from the KGB and one from the CIA.”

He sighed, “We were asked to provide a sperm sample…however, the CIA had very little hope in the project and decided to provide the sperm sample of a new recruit, one who we didn’t hold out much hope for. As we predicted, the experiment didn’t work for a long time…until around 6 years ago, when a KGB agent was successfully impregnated with the two samples and gave birth five years ago.”

Napoleon raised an eyebrow and smirked at Sanders, “And of course, the CIA suddenly became interested again.”

“Yes…the CIA and the KGB worked together in order to train the child. The deal between us, was that whilst it would live and train in Russia, the CIA would always be made privy to what was happening and have access to it.”

“It?” interrupted Illya, who had been getting tenser and tenser with every word, “It is a child, not a gun!”

Sanders shrugged, “Fine….he. However, a few weeks ago we found that the KGB were planning to break the deal. It-I beg your pardon, the child is being moved to a more secure location without informing the CIA.”

“So gentlemen…” began Waverly, “….we will need one of you to infiltrate a KGB safe house. The child will only be there for a maximum of three hours, and the CIA have hired us to get him out.”

Napoleon nodded, “That sounds acceptable. But why only one of us?”

“Two would attract too much attention…Mister Solo, Mister Sanders has requested you for this mission.”

“Not to be blunt, but why? Surely Peril here would have an easier time of sneaking into a KGB safe house to…acquire a Russian child?”

Sanders sighed, “I’m not proud of this, but you have to remember that the CIA didn’t believe that it would work…”

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Solo glared at his ex-handler. “Why me?”

“The genetic samples that the CIA gave to the KGB….were yours Solo.”

Sanders continued to talk, but all Solo could hear was a rushing noise as everything around him went silent…his sperm…his child. He held up a hand to stop Sanders in in tracks, “You mean to tell me….” He hissed, “….that I have a son, who has been trained by the KGB for five years?!”

“Well technically it was more like four years of training…but essentially yes.”

“H-how? Why?!”

“You had recently signed yourself over to the service of the CIA. We didn’t have much hope for you and thanks to your womanizing ways, we managed to obtain the samples easily.”

Napoleon shook his head in denial, “A-and the other donor?”

“That was kept confidential by the KGB, just as they were unaware of who provided our sample.”

“You make it sound like I gave it willingly!”

“You did… to the woman anyway.”

Before Napoleon could leap up out of his chair, he felt a gentle but strong hand on his shoulder, holding him back. Twisting his head around, Napoleon felt his heart practically drop at the devastated look in Illya’s eyes…despite his face remaining neutral.

Letting Illya calm Napoleon down, Waverly took charge of the conversation once again. “So you believe that, because of Napoleon’s familial connection to the child, it’ll be easier for him to remove the child from the safe house…What is his name anyway?”

Sanders shrugged, “We’ve only ever known him as Project Principium.”

“Great….” Napoleon groaned, “…I’m sure I can find a nickname with that! How about PP?”

“The sarcasm is unnecessary Solo…” sneered Sanders, pulling another file out of his briefcase, “…you’ll be happy to know, the KGB would monitor the visits between the child and his….mother. Apparently, this individual would call him Lyov.”

“Lyov?”

“It is another form of name Leo….” Answered Illya, “…or so I believe.”

Smiling at Illya in a silent thanks, Napoleon turned back to Sanders. “Fine…saying I do take on this mission, what’s the plan?”

Before Sanders could answer, Waverly butted in. “Ah, I’m glad you asked Mister Solo. Miss Teller here has all the details.”

Gaby, who had been glancing between Sanders and Napoleon, gracefully pushed herself off the desk and handed Solo a file. “Usually, the convoy consists of over ten, heavily armed guards. However, once they get to the safe house, a small group will move on ahead to the next, highly secure, safe-house in order to make sure there are no obstacles in the way….meaning that there will only be three armed guards in charge of protecting Pro-Lyov for three hours in the safe house.”

“Should be easy to manage…” sighed Napoleon, “….when are they estimated to be at the safe house?”

“In two days’ time.”

“Great….plenty of time to plan.”

“You’ve done more in less time.”

There was silence as Napoleon stared down at the file, until he shook his head and glanced up at Sanders. “What about the boy’s mother?”

“Who cares….” Sneered Sanders, “…they were only allowed to interact a couple of times a month. Chances are, the kid doesn’t even know them!”

“It’s not a chance I’m willing to take!” yelled Napoleon, slamming his fist down on Waverley’s desk, “I can’t kidnap that kid knowing that his mother could be missing him!”

“Mister Solo…” interrupted Waverly, “…I’m afraid we don’t have much of a choice.”

There was a tense silence for a few moments, before Napoleon turned away in disgust. “Fine…I’ll take the job.” He glanced back at Sanders, “But only on one condition.”

“You think you have the power to negotiate here?”

Waverly frowned at this, “He is the one taking on the mission. I don’t see the CIA leaping to Lyov’s defence.”

“Precisely!” argued Napoleon, “The CIA don’t have his best interests at heart…which is why I don’t think I should hand my son over to them.”

Sanders leapt up out of his seat, almost backing Napoleon into the wall (and he would have if Illya hadn’t been standing there). “We brought this case to you Solo! You wouldn’t even have known without us, you would have gone on taming the Russian and blissfully ignoring any responsibilities!”

“Don’t speak about Illya like that!”

“ENOUGH!” ordered Gaby, silencing everyone (including Waverly), “The CIA brought the case to us, and now the Head of UNCLE should make the decision of what to do…”

Everyone turned to stare at Waverly, who looked slightly flustered, “Well, I rather think it depends on the situation. If Lyov is beyond redemption then he should go with the CIA, however…” he held up a hand, stopping Sanders (who was smiling smugly) in his tracks, “…if there are signs of the child acting as children of that age should, then Mister Solo should be given a chance to raise his son. Is everyone in agreement?”

Napoleon was quick to agree, however it was obvious that Sanders was still not pleased with the decision. Sensing that he was outnumbered, Sanders agreed as well.

Seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room, Waverly clapped his hands together and grinned. “Excellent! Mister Solo, I suggest you get everything you need. UNCLE can get you into Russia and near the safe-house, but from there on out, you’ll have to make the journey back yourself.”

“Yes Sir.”

With one last glare at Sanders, Napoleon left, closely followed by Illya. The pair travelled back to their apartment in silence, with Napoleon storming into the bedroom as soon as they arrived. “I can’t believe this. How could they keep this from me?!”

There was only silence from Illya, but Napoleon carried on regardless. “And don’t even get me started on the KGB! Treating my son like he was nothing but a science experiment! A weapon to be trained for the good of Russia! How did you ever work for them?!”

He span around in anger….but felt it drain away when he saw the devastated look in his lover’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I-“

“This will change everything?”

Napoleon frowned at the question, “Change?”

Gesturing between the two of them, Illya smiled sadly. “Us. The child will change everything, nyet?”

“No, no, no!” gasped Napoleon rushing forwards, “I-I know we haven’t discussed children….hell, we haven’t even discussed marriage, but I know that I won’t give you up to raise my son. For all we know, his mother will be there and she can raise him and I’ll have visitation rights or something!”

“And if mother is not there….or someone not expected?”

“T-then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it…but this will change nothing, I swear!”

Illya simply shrugged and backed out of the room, “I hope so Cowboy….you had better pack. You have work to do.”

Before Napoleon could say anything, Illya left him to it. A couple of minutes later, the front door to the apartment opened and closed.

“Great…” muttered Napoleon, “….I’ve gained one son and lost a lover all in one day. Now all I need is for the stock market to crash and my favourite suit to tear.”


	3. The Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :-)

Napoleon groaned as an icy blast of wind seemed to penetrate all of his layers. “How do these people stand this…” he muttered, creeping up to the boundaries of the safe-house, “…no wonder Illya’s hands are-“

He stopped and sighed….he and Illya still hadn’t reconciled since their discussion a couple of days ago. Not even on the plane to the Russian borders.

……………….Flashback………………………

“Now remember Mister Solo….” Began Waverly, “….once you get Lyov, you’re on your own. We’ll be waiting for you in another UNCLE safe-house near the Russian border. It’s a pretty long journey from the KGB house, but the coordinates will be sent to your phone in code. I’m sure you’ll be able to manage.”

Napoleon raised an eyebrow, “Clearly you’ve never tried travelling with a five year old.”

“Have you?”

“Well….no. But I’ve heard it’s torture.”

“You should try dinnertime with baby…” grunted Illya from across the aisle. At the surprised looks from the rest of his team, he shrugged, “It was for undercover role.”

Napoleon nodded, trying not to make it seem as though he was uncomfortable. The atmosphere between the two was still quite tense. “Well…” he sighed, “…at least I skipped that ordeal.”

The plane soon began to descent as it landed on an abandoned runway. As it was landing, Napoleon grabbed his rucksack and made sure all of his extremities were covered, “Wish me luck…” he grinned, trying not to sigh when Illya simply nodded at him.

Taking a deep breath, Napoleon leapt out of the plane door as the wheels touched the tar-mac, landing in a snow-drift with a groan.

………….End Flashback………………..

From his position, Napoleon could clearly see two guards patrolling the edge of the property. By his calculations, they had been there for an hour already, so Napoleon only had two hours to take them out and get a suitable distance away with his son.

“I bet I can do it in less than fifteen minutes…” he whispered, twisting his head to speak to Illya….only to remember that the Russian wasn’t there. “….Oh yeah….Solo mission….for Solo.”

He crept into some nearby bushes, before using a specially designed watch, with knockout darts, to take out the two patrolling guards. Checking that they were unconscious, Napoleon then crept in through the front door, diving behind a sofa as the third guard entered the living room.

“Вы будете получать пищу, когда мы перейдем к следующему безопасного дома отродье! (You will receive food, when we move to the next safe house brat!)” Yelled the guard angrily.

As the guard glanced out of the window, probably searching for his two colleagues, Napoleon crept up behind him and pulled him into a chokehold, keeping the pressure steady until the man fell unconscious.

Once sure that the man was out for the count, Napoleon crept in the direction of the room he had seen the guard coming out of. Upon pushing the door open, he cried out in pain when something hit him in the shoulder.

“AH! What the hell?!” he yelped, his eyes scanning the bare room.

Suddenly on the side of the bed, which had a threadbare sheet and thin mattress, he saw a small head peak over the top. This prompted Napoleon to kneel on the floor in an attempt to make himself seem smaller.

“Привет (Hi)…” he whispered, choosing to speak in Russian, “…Не бойся , я не причиню тебе вреда (Do not worry, I will not hurt you.)”

He remained as still as he could, barely breathing as a small boy tiptoed around the bed. The boy seemed very small for five years old, with blonde (slightly curly) hair and baby blue eyes.  
“Huh…” mused Napoleon, switching to English, “…I guess your Mama was blonde?”

The child sat on the floor, by the end of the bed, and tilted his head in curiosity. Happy that the boy hadn’t moved away, Napoleon shuffled a little closer and smiled at him. “Является ли ваше имя Lyov? (Is your name Lyov?)”

Clearly, this was the right thing to say in order to gain the child’s trust, because a beam appeared on his face and he crawled closer, nodding eagerly. Napoleon chuckled as Lyov sat right in front of him, “Возможно, ваша мать вас так называть? (Did your Mother call you that?)”

Another nod, so Napoleon reached into his bag and pulled out a Superman figure in order to give to Lyov. “Это для вас ... Я не знаю, если ваша мать упоминается что-нибудь обо мне , но я твой отец (This is for you…I do not know if your Mother mentioned something about me, but I am your Father.)”

He winced slightly at the obvious Star Wars reference, frowning as Lyov passed the figure from hand to hand. “Вы когда-нибудь имели игрушку раньше? (Have you ever had a toy before?)” He asked.

Lyov shook his head, eyes widened when he was able to move the arms and legs of the figure. Napoleon glanced around the room and nodded, muttering to himself in English. “Yeah…I can tell.”

Slowly, he pushed himself off of the floor and began to wander around the room. He opened up a bag to find plain grey t-shirts, and black trousers all neatly folded inside. “Doesn’t this kid have anything with a bit a colour?!” he muttered to himself.

The bag was light, and therefore, Napoleon was easily able to lift it onto his shoulder. Spinning around, he grinned at the sight of Lyov making the figure ‘fly’ in the air. 

“Где ваше пальто Lyov? (Where is your coat Lyov?)” He asked, watching as Lyov leapt to his feet and ran into the living area. Napoleon was quick to follow, only to yelp in surprise when he saw his son shimmying up a coat rack in order to grab a small parka, a grey woollen hat and scarf.

“Get down!” Napoleon yelled, forgetting to speak in Russian, “You’ll hurt yourself!”

Lyov startled in surprise, his grip slipping slightly on the coat rack, however he manged not to fall off. Instead he slide down and ducked his head in shame and quickly put the warmer clothing on, glancing up every so often at Napoleon and clutching the clothes closer.

This caused Napoleon to sigh, “Я не собираюсь причинять тебе боль (I’m not going to hurt you).”

Clearly, Lyov didn’t quite believe him, however the child went to grab his new toy anyway and shuffled to Napoleon. Gently (although Lyov still flinched), Napoleon took a hold of Lyov’s hand and gently encouraged the child to leave the safe-house with him.

Instantly, the pair were hit with an icy cold blast of wind. Napoleon shivered, hunching over into his coat in an attempt to stay warm….Lyov however, barely flinched causing Napoleon to sigh. “Of course he’s not bothered by the cold….” He muttered, “….god forbid a Russian actually feel the cold.”

They set off walking and managed to get to the boundaries of the property without much problem (although Lyov was very interested in the unconscious bodies of the other guards). “У нас есть автомобиль...(We have a car…)” he reassured Lyov, who was beginning to falter slightly, “…Мы будем выйти из этого холода в ближайшее время (We will get out of this cold soon.)”

When Lyov truly began to slow down, each step taking about a minute, Napoleon lifted the child into his arms and practically sprinted to where he knew he had parked the car. Lyov seemed surprised at this, tensing in Napoleon’s arms until they reached the vehicle.

“Thank god…” muttered Napoleon, shifting his son to one arm in order to open the passenger side door, and then placing his son inside. After getting in himself, he quickly started the engine and turned the heater on.

“Лучше? (Better?)” He asked, twisting around to smile at his son. Lyov nodded, putting his hood down and removing the scarf and gloves, the Superman figure resting on his lap. 

“Хорошо (Good)…” Napoleon pulled onto a nearby road and sped away from the boundaries of the safe-house, “…Давайте попробуем найти где-нибудь , чтобы поесть (Let’s try to find somewhere to eat.)”

They travelled for a couple of hours, in order to make sure that they were far enough from the safe-house. Lyov soon fell asleep, his head resting on the window, despite the car hitting several bumps along the road. 

Once he was sure that his son was fast asleep, Napoleon switched on his communicator. “Agent Solo here.”

//Ah Mister Solo…\\\ came the voice of Waverly, //How is everything going?\\\

“I’ve got the child and we are en-route to the UNCLE safe-house.”

//Excellent! Any problems so far?\\\

Napoleon glanced over at the child, “None with the mission Sir…Lyov hasn’t said anything though. Is there any record of mutism or speech difficulties?”

//Nyet…”\\\ This time, Illya answered, //….he is probably just shy\\\

“That sounds plausible….I have just taken him from the only life I’ve known. Do we know how many languages he’s been exposed to? American life may be difficult if he can only speak and understand Russian.”

//He can speak and understand English...\\\ Illya again, //…Why/ Are you exposing him to bad Russian accent?\\\

Napoleon chuckled, feeling glad that their familiar banter was back in place. “My accent isn’t that bad!”

//Keep telling yourself that Cowboy\\\

There were the sounds of rustling and shuffling over the communicator for a few moments, before Waverly’s voice came over the device again. “What’s your ETA at the safe-house Mister Solo?”

Glancing at the horizon, Napoleon frowned. “It’s getting a bit late Sir, so I may check us both into a motel for the night….but we should be there by noon tomorrow.”

//Hmmmm….do you have the necessary ID’s for the motel?\\\

“Of course Sir. I prepared suitable cover stories for both of us for just this occasion.”

//Excellent. We will see you tomorrow Mister Solo. Waverly out.\\\

Napoleon switched off the communicator, glancing at his son….only to find him wide awake. “Hey kiddo!” he gasped, trying to mask his surprise, “You hungry?”

Lyov frowned at him, gesturing at his throat and mouth.

“Yeah, my Russian accent’s lousy huh? Do you mind if I speak English?”

There was silence as Lyov thought to himself for a few moments, before he shrugged and smiled….Napoleon took that to mean that he could speak English.

“Thanks kiddo….so, are you hungry?”

Lyov nodded eagerly, causing Napoleon to grin. “Excellent! I’m starving….I think there’s a restaurant a little further up.”

After around 10 more minutes of driving, Napoleon finally pulled into the car-park of a road-side café. “Come on kiddo…” Napoleon stepped out of his door and ran around to the passenger side, “…grub time.”

Silently, Lyov held up his Superman figure causing Napoleon to grin and chuckle. “Yeah you can bring Supes with you….but he’s not getting his own meal, okay?”

Lyov just gave him an ‘obviously’ look and pushed himself out into the cold. Napoleon locked the door and the pair entered (with Napoleon keeping a careful eye out for any suspicious individuals). They saw themselves to a booth and glanced at the menu.

“So what are you fancying kid?” Napoleon asked, keeping his voice quiet in order not to be overheard speaking English, “Pizza? A burger?”

Lyov frowned at him, before pointing to the picture of a simple bowl of soup.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else? That doesn’t look very-“

Lyov interrupted him by pointing aggressively at the picture. 

“Alright, alright…” Napoleon held up his hands in mock surrender, however, he was quick to notice the child glancing at the pictures of the other meals in...longing?

“Hey…” he whispered, “….have you ever had any of these others foods before?”

Lyov shook his head.

“So, what have you eaten for the last five years?”

Lyov pointed at the picture of the soup again, and then at a picture of bread. Napoleon sighed, “Okay….maybe you should have the soup. Anything else might be too rich for your system…although maybe I can get you some chips. They should be plain enough.”

Lyov looked on in curiosity as Napoleon flagged down a passing waitress. “Можем ли мы иметь одну тарелку супа и одну тарелку жареного картофеля , пожалуйста? (Can we have a bowl of soup and a plate of chips please?)” He asked, his most charming smile on his face.

The waitress nodded, a perky smile on her face (which much be a requirement in this job). “Любые напитки? (Any drinks?)”

“Два воды , пожалуйста (Two waters please)”

The waitress nodded and flounced away. Once she was out of earshot, Napoleon turned back to his son. “I assume water’s okay?”

Lyov glanced up from his Superman figure and nodded, smiling shyly at his Father. A couple of minutes later, the waitress brought over two glasses of water and beamed at the pair, cooing at Lvov before flouncing off again.

Napoleon was quick to take a gulp, thirsty after the many hours of driving. “Aahh…” he gasped in relief, “…That hits the spot!”

He glanced at Lyov….and was alarmed to see two of him. His vision become blurred and it felt as though something heavy was resting against his shoulders.

“Oh not again…” he whispered, catching Lyov’s worried glance just before his head hit the table.


	4. Small Shooting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)

The first thing Napoleon felt was a dull ache in his head. When he went to rub the back of his head in an attempt to lessen the pain, he quickly realised that his wrists were strapped to a chair. 

“Aaah…” came an unfamiliar voice, “…I think the American is awake, nyet?”

Weakly, Napoleon opened his eyes to see two men, clearly KGB agents, standing in front of him. “Gentlemen…”he greeted, trying to remain calm, “…I don’t think this is necessary. A simple chat over a cup of coffee would have been fine.”

“The American think he’s funny!” chuckled one of the men, before back-handing Napoleon across the face.

From behind them, there was a noise of protest, prompting Napoleon to focus on a small figure seated on a table. “R-really?” he coughed, “You’re going to make the kid watch you thugs beat me?”

The two men glanced behind them and shrugged, one of them grinning as Lyov scooted back as far as he could. “Well, he has got to learn torture methods one day da?”

“He’s five!”

“Better late than never…” the guard scowled as Lyov clutched his Superman toy closer to him, “…give me that!” He snatched the toy away, pushing Lyov back when he tried to grab it, “You Americans and your heroes.” He sneered, throwing the toy to the far side of the room.

Napoleon growled at this, “Bastards….he’s just a kid!”

“Nyet. He is a weapon.”

The two guards then began hitting Napoleon in the stomach and face, laughing as the man grunted in pain. After a few minutes of steady beating, that left Napoleon’s nose and lip bleeding and his breath laboured due to cracked ribs, the two men stopped and went to lean back against the table.

“Now that introductions are over…” began one of the men, “…tell us who employed you. CIA perhaps?”

“Social services actually. Someone reported incidents of abuse towards Lyo-UPH!”

The fist to his stomach stopped Napoleon in his tracks, causing him to wheeze in pain as he desperately tried to catch his breath. As he gasped weakly, head lowered to his chest, he could hear the two guards instructing Lyov on the proper hitting technique in Russian….but not for very long.

There was a sudden bang and one of the guards fell to the door…dead, with a bullet hole in between his eyes. The other guard yelled in anger and shock, only for there to be another bang, closely followed by his body hitting the floor.

Weakly, Napoleon lifted his head aware from his chest only for his eyes to widen in alarm. Seated on the table, aiming a gun at the two fallen guards….was Lyov. He had a determined look in his eyes as he glared at the two corpses.

“L-lyov?” stuttered Napoleon, still in shock, “H-how did you-“

Before he could finish, Lyov pointed to one of the men on the floor. On closer inspection, Napoleon could tell that the gun holster on the man’s belt was empty, which meant that Lyov had likely stolen it when the two guards leant back against the table.

Napoleon was too stunned to talk, watching as Lyov leapt down from the table and pressed two fingers against each man’s neck (although there was really no need….they were both shot in the head). In silence, he watched as Lyov un-cuffed him from the chair, and gestured towards the door frantically.

Weakly, Napoleon got to his feet and limped towards the door, not even managing to muster up a smile when he saw Lyov gently grab his Superman figure from up off the ground. Once outside, they were once again hit with an icy blast of wind….and their car was no-where to be seen.

“W-we need to go back indoors kid….” Stuttered Napoleon, but Lyov shook his head and pointed into the distance. Glancing in that area, Napoleon could see a dark SUV. 

“Kid I-“He paused when he saw that Lyov and disappeared, although it was only briefly. After less than a minute, Lyov ran out the small building, straight towards the SUV. In amazement, Napoleon continued to watch as Lyov used some stolen keys to unlock the car, gesturing for his Father to follow him.

Weakly, Napoleon limped over and (whilst wincing heavily) attempted to climb into the front seat….but fell back into the snow, the pain from his ribs too much. “I-I can’t…” he whispered, “….not before I get some medical help.”

Lyov pursed his lips in thought, before nodding in determination and helping his Father as the man pushed himself up off the ground. He struggled to support the older man, but eventually, they made their way back into the small building.

Napoleon went to sit down, watching in silence as his son rummaged through cupboards and drawers. After a couple of minutes of searching, Lyov held up his hand in triumph and grinned at his Father, bandages, a first aid box and a bottle of painkillers in his hand.

He placed the items on the table by Napoleon, before attempting to push the two bodies of the dead guards to one side….he was semi successful. Napoleon smiled when Lyov gave up, the two bodies simply tipped onto their sides.

“So what’s the plan kiddo?”

Lyov shrugged, grabbing the bandages and holding them up to Napoleon.

“Y-you’re going to patch me up?”

Nodding eagerly, Lyov clambered up onto his Father’s lap and grabbed a plaster from the first aid box, before carefully placing it under Napoleon’s lip, where he was cut. As his son then went about cleaning the dried blood under his nose, Napoleon’s thoughts turned to Illya and everyone waiting at the UNCLE safe-house.

It was probably about noon by now….they would be concerned if he didn’t show up.

‘But it was too late now’ thought Napoleon wearily, wincing when Lyov accidentally nudged his busted nose. “So, how do you know how to do this anyway?” he asked.

Lyov stopped, his hand still clutching the tissue. With a deep sigh, he lifted his t-shirt up to show Napoleon a jagged scar on his mid-section, and tapped it with the other hand. 

Napoleon felt as though his heart had stopped, “H-how did that happen kid?”

His son shrugged, letting the t-shirt fall back down and began to mime fighting, making karate chops and little boxing punches. He then mimed a stabbing action, before pointing at where the scar was again.

“S-so you were fighting….training?”

A silent nod.

“And someone stabbed you during it….you were training to defend yourself from a knife, and your trainer stabbed you?!”

Another nod.

Napoleon had to take deep breaths, trying to reign in his anger at the thought of anybody hurting his son. “W-who stitched you up?” he asked, hoping that the answer wouldn’t be what he thought it was….he was disappointed.

Lyov mimed the action of stitching himself up, grinning up at his Father as though expecting a ‘well done for knowing how to stitch yourself up at five years old!’ Napoleon took another deep breath, and weakly smiled back. “Okay, okay kiddo.”

After a couple of minutes, Napoleon’s face was completely clean (although his nose was still very sore) and Lyov was reaching into the first aid box to grab the bandages. This was the last straw for Napoleon, “Woah, woah, woah kiddo…” he gently grabbed a hold of his son’s wrists, and smirked at the boy’s confused look, “…I can strap up my own ribs okay? Why don’t you go and see if there’s any food in this dump? We may be here a while.”

Lyov nodded eagerly, and practically leapt off of Napoleon’s lap (causing him to yelp in pain), before rushing into the kitchen…well, Napoleon assumed it was the kitchen, he didn’t exactly get the full tour last time.

Groaning, he managed to unbutton his shirt….when the door to the building flew open. Not even pausing to yelp at the sudden blast of cold air, Napoleon dived to the floor and quickly the one gun remaining in the guard’s holster, aiming it at the figure in the doorway.

“Napoleon!”

Napoleon sighed in relief, “Illya…” he grinned up at the Russian “….sorry we were late.”

Illya shut the door behind him and knelt in front of his lover, gently turning his head from side to side in order to see the extent of the wounds. “What happened?” he murmured.

“They had eyes on us…must have drugged my water when we stopped for a quick bite to eat.” Napoleon winced, “They didn’t know who I was working for though….the CIA should expect a back-lash from the KGB.”

“They tortured you?”

Napoleon shrugged, “They knocked me about a bit. They didn’t really get time to do anything worse though.”

Illya seemed confused at this, however, before he could say anything Napoleon groaned as the painful repercussions of diving to the ground made themselves known. Rolling his eyes, Illya helped the man off of the floor and back to the chair. “You are a foolish man Cowboy.”

“Hey!” complained Napoleon, “I prefer to think of it as being foolhardily brave.”

“Call it what you want Cowboy, but it was a stupid thing to do.”

Choosing not to argue, Napoleon held up his arms obligingly when prompted so that Illya could wrap the bandages around his chest. “I will call Waverly and tell him the mission was not a success…” muttered Illya, eyes firmly focused on his work, “….maybe we can catch them before-“

“Woah, woah, woah…” interrupted Napoleon, “….what are you talking about Peril?”

“Well they captured you….Lyov must be back with them.”

Napoleon chuckled and shook his head, “They were cocky…brought the kid with them in order to teach him good torture skills I suppose.”

Illya seemed disgusted at this, although not very surprised. At his lover’s silence, Napoleon continued, “I don’t know what they’ve been teaching that boy, but he managed to steal a gun and shoot them directly in the head!”

“Lyov did this?!”

Napoleon nodded, “But there’s still a glimpse of a child in their Illya! I brought a toy with me and the wonder on his face…well, I think he just wants to be a normal five year old.”

Illya didn’t seem convinced, but remained silent as he finished wrapping up his lovers’ chest. As he finished tying off the bandages, the door leading to the kitchen slammed open and Lyov came rushing in, waving a loaf of bread in the air. 

Napoleon tensed slightly, getting ready to protect Illya if Lyov saw him as a threat….but was surprised.

At the sight of Illya, Lyov dropped both the bread and his Superman figure on the ground and raced forwards.

“PAPA!”


	5. The Journey Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)
> 
> ………………..

“PAPA!” 

Napoleon watched in shock as Lyov ran straight to Illya, a beaming grin on his face and his arm out-stretched wide.

What was even more surprising, was that Illya beamed back at the child and lifted him into the air as Lyov ran into his arms. Spinning Lyov around, Napoleon was sure he had entered the twilight zone, because Illya was laughing as well.

Eventually, the pair settled down and Lyov began to bounce up and down excitedly in Illya’s arms. “Superman!” He kept exclaiming, “He’s Superman! Just like in your stories!”

Illya, who was clearly trying not meet Napoleon’s eyes, smiled at Lyov. “Da? I am sure Napoleon is happy to hear that.”

“Uh huh! He is just like all those stories you told me!”

Napoleon could only watch in shock as Illya and Lyov continued to chatter, a sharp pain in his chest which he couldn’t attribute to his cracked ribs.

“Where’s Waverly?” He interrupted, turning to face the door in a desperate attempt not to show the pain in his eyes. “I can’t imagine he’s far behind.”

“Napoleon-“

“Well I hope he brought the plane. We are in the middle of nowhere after all.”

Napoleon heard Illya sigh before answering, “His ETA is ten minutes from now…I assume that there will not be any more KGB agents?”

“From the way they were planning to…question me, I don’t think they were expecting anyone for a while.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, except for the excited chatter of Lyov, who was oblivious to the tension between the two adults. Eventually, there was another knock on the door and a familiar British accent could be heard outside.

“Hello? Mister Kuryakin?”

Napoleon rolled his eyes and opened the door, “You know, if Illya had been overpowered and the KGB were here, then you’d be dead by now.”

Waverly shrugged as he shouldered his way in, “I had every confidence in Mister Kuryakin….” Upon glancing at the agent in question, he couldn’t help but smile at the small child, who had buried his face in Illya’s neck.

“Hello little one…” greeted Waverly, stepping closer and trying to smile reassuringly at him.

However, Lyov didn’t lift his head up, instead trying to bury closer to Illya. Taking the subtle hint, Waverly turned his attention back to Napoleon, frowning in concern. “I see the KGB didn’t want to give Lyov up so easily?”

Napoleon nodded, wincing slightly as his head began to ache. “Yes Sir. They must have had eyes on us since leaving the KGB safe-house. They drugged some water at a diner and I woke up here.”

Waverly nodded in understanding, “We assumed it would be something like that, hence sending Mister Kuryakin to find you. Miss Teller is waiting for us back at the jet, if you would care to follow me?”

Napoleon and Illya nodded, with Napoleon stripping one of the guards of his coat. Once everything was grabbed (and Waverly had called some colleagues to clean up the scene), they all left and trudged over to where the jet was waiting.

Napoleon still didn’t look at Illya.

Once everyone was strapped in, and Lyov was preoccupied with his Superman toy, Gaby lifted off. Once they were high enough in the air and had levelled off, Napoleon turned in his seat to face Lyov.

“Hey, you okay?”

Lyov was shaking slightly in his seat, his eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head in the negative. “Too high…” whimpered the five year old, “…too high!”

Before Illya could help, Napoleon unbuckled his seat belt and knelt down in front of Lyov (ignoring the dull ache in his ribs). “You wanna know something?” He tapped the Superman figure, “Superman can fly you know. In fact, he can fly so fast that he turns back time.”

“So?!”

Napoleon ruffled Lyov’s hair, “So, if Superman can be a hero and fly, then you can as well….and if you’re really scared, then I’ll be here. Every step of the way.”

Lyov glanced at him, tears brimming in his eyes. “You promise?”

“Yeah…what are Dad’s for after all?”

Dimly, he could hear Illya take a sharp intake of breath, but chose to ignore it, focusing on his son. Lyov was staring down at his Superman figure, remaining tense as the plane rocked slightly in the air. “You’ll be okay honey…” soothed Napoleon, gently stroking his son’s hair, “….just imagine you’re Superman.”

“B-but I-I’m not American! The guards said so!”

Napoleon winced, “The guards….what did the guards say you were?”

“Русским оружием (A Russian weapon)”

“Well you listen to me…” Napoleon ordered gently, “…You are not a weapon. You are a little boy, my little boy in fact. Those guards were wrong…besides, you’re not fully Russian you know. You’re half American as well.”

Lyov frowned at this, “So…they were completely wrong?”

“Exactly.”

Nodding, Lyov turned his attention back to the Superman figure. “Does that mean I can be like Superman…he’s American isn’t he?”

“Superman’s just a good guy kid. It doesn’t matter if you’re American or Russian, okay?”

Lyov nodded eagerly, making Superman fly around (clearly not focusing on the face that they were flying in a plane). “Then I will be Superman!”

As the plane continued to fly, Lyov eventually drifted off to sleep, Superman resting on his lap. Once sure that he was asleep, Napoleon and Illya were waved over to the back of the plane by Waverly.

“What’s the verdict Agent Solo and Agent Kuryakin? Can Lyov be integrated into normal society?”

Before Napoleon could answer, Illya spoke up. “It appears the situation was worse than I thought…Lyov was the one who killed the two guards in the cabin. The ones who were keeping Napoleon captive.”

Waverly’s eyes opened wide in shock, “Lyov was responsible?! For that?!”

Nodding, Illya sighed wearily. “I-I didn’t realise just how far into his training Lyov was…if they have perfected his aim with a weapon, who knows what else they have taught him.” He glanced up Waverly, “If I had known, I would have informed you Sir.”

“Would you really?” snarled Napoleon, “Because from what I’ve seen, secrets are your speciality…or can it be considered lying now?”

“Napoleon I- “

“-No…” Napoleon interrupted, “…I’m not going to let you throw my son under the bus like that!” Without waiting for an answer, Napoleon turned to Waverly. “The kid isn’t a full spy yet! He’s fascinated with his Superman toy….and what spy is frightened of heights?! The KGB would have beaten it out of him as soon as they realised! It’s not like Peril’s anger! It can’t be used as an asset!””

Illya opened his mouth to protest, but quickly found himself silenced when Waverly held up a hand, prompting Napoleon to continue. 

“Give him a chance…” begged Napoleon, “…he just needs to know that he can be a normal child. One that can have fun without turning it into a training session. One that doesn’t have to think that he has to grow up to be a weapon for the KGB…or the CIA.”

“I see your point Agent Solo…. maybe a chance to grow up as a normal child is what Lyov needs. Can I count on the two of you to make that happen, or do I need to bring someone else in?”

Again, before Illya could say anything, Napoleon spoke up. “There’ll be no need for that Sir. I’ll take him in.”

“Will we?”

Slowly, Napoleon turned to Illya. “Yes…. I will. Whether or not you’re involved, depends on whether you’re going to tell me the truth.”

It probably would have hurt less if Napoleon had struck him across the face. Illya’s face grew pale and he took a small step backwards……before his fists clenched and he span around, storming back into the main area of the plane.

“Was that really necessary Mister Solo?” asked Waverly, disapproval in his voice.

“Yes. He needs to explain why my kid is calling him Dad! He needs to explain how he’s so familiar with Lyov!”

“Or…. maybe you need to see things from his perspective?” Waverly sighed, “Lyov was a carefully kept secret from almost everybody. Maybe he felt like he couldn’t tell anybody for fear of death…. Or Lyov’s death. And-“

“- and maybe he didn’t know I was the Father.” Finished Napoleon wearily, “But once we found out, then he could have told me! But he didn’t… and that’s why I’m angry.”

There was silence for a few moments, before Waverly nodded. “Understood…” he stood up and sighed, “… but Agent Solo. Please try and speak to Kuryakin. I won’t have my finest team broken up over something so small… or someone.”

Napoleon nodded, heading back into the main area of the plane, refusing to look at Illya as he sat next to his (still-sleeping) son. “When we get back to headquarters…” he began, “… Lyov will be taken to medical. Just to make sure that the LGB haven’t left us any surprises… we’ll talk while he’s being examined.”

Illya opened his mouth to talk, but was silenced when Napoleon held up his hand. “No…. later. I can’t right now.”


	6. The Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)

Once Lyov was safely with the nurse (although he did look very wary about it), Napoleon took advantage of the break and tugged Illya away, towards an unused room. He didn’t have to try too hard.

He tugged Illya inside and locked the door behind them. “Alright…” muttered Napoleon, “…talk. What the hell is going on?!”

Illya took a deep breath and sighed, pulling an old wooden chair over and gesturing for Napoleon to sit down. “Please…. Please sit.”

Keeping his eyes on his lover, Napoleon slowly lowered himself into the offered chair, frowning as Illya began to pace back and forth in front of him. After a few moments of silence, Napoleon practically threw his hands up in the air, “Well are you going to tell me or not?!”

“You were not told everything in meeting….” Sighed Illya after remaining silent for a few more moments, “…and the CIA were not told everything at beginning of project.”

“…What do you mean?”

“The KGB wanted to find out if they could create perfect spy… but they also wanted to see if they could do impossible task.”

“Impossible task?”

“…To see if a male can carry and birth baby.”

Napoleon felt his heart practically stop, “B-but that’s- “

“-Impossible? Yes, it should have been…. But Russian scientists worked hard and realised that with donated egg, which was…messed with, and two sperm samples, the genes of the two samples would shine through. By implanting an artificial womb, their Russian sample could also carry baby.”

“So…. Lyov doesn’t really have a Mother. He has two Dads?”

“Essentially.”

Napoleon nodded in understanding…. Until he came to a sudden realisation. “He called you Papa.”

Illya opened his mouth, but Napoleon continued undeterred. “You told him stories. Stories about an American hero… you must have known about his American blood. You’d spent time with him and y-you knew what his name meant! Because- “

“- because I was the one who gave it to him.” Illya turned away and sighed, “I couldn’t just keep calling him it… or the Project.”

“B-but the CIA said that- “

“- that his Mother was the one who gave him the name, Da.”

Napoleon sat there in silence as Illya continued. “The CIA never knew about the second project… and I planned to keep it that way. I was already the KGB’s lab rat…. I couldn’t be the CIA’s as well.”

Silence.

Illya refused to look at his lover, instead, turning to face the wall. “I was only allowed to see him once a week at first…. Then once every two weeks when he hit two…. And then once a month. I didn’t think that would bother me, it was unwanted child after all, but after b-birth…. I thought about grabbing him and escaping from the KGB. My Father’s debt be damned!

“How...” Napoleon cleared his throat, “… how did you- “

“- give birth?” Illya lifted his shirt and ran his fingers gently over a scar that stretched across his stomach. Flinching when Napoleon’s fingers joined his own, running over the scar, Illya’s voice was practically a whisper. “They cut me open again.”

Napoleon seemed transfixed by the scar, “You told me that this was a knife wound… although technically, I suppose it’s true.”

“It was easier to say than admit the truth.”

Again, there was silence. 

Illya allowed his shirt to fall back down, and took a step back. “Please say something…” he whispered.

“… Tell me you didn’t know I was the other Father. Tell me that you didn’t start a relationship with me, just because I was the other Father. Please Illya!”

Whilst their conversation had been filled with uncomfortable silences, Illya was quick to answer this time. “Nyet…” he went to his knees in front of Napoleon, “…nyet, you must believe me. I did not know you were Father until meeting with Waverly.”

Napoleon nodded, “Alright…” he sighed, “… I believe you.”

Smiling in relief, Illya went to kiss the other man… only for Napoleon to stop him.

“I can’t right now Peril… come on. Let’s go get Lyov.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

Upon arriving at the doctor’s office, Napoleon chuckled at the sulky look on Lyov’s face. “Well at least that’s normal…” he laughed, bending down to lift Lyov into his arms, “… a child who doesn’t like the Doctor!”

The nurse blushed when Napoleon winked at her, clearing her throat as she turned her attention to her clipboard. “Okay… she began, “… Lyov is quite healthy overall, however, he is under-weight for his age. Severely malnourished as well. I’ll provide you with some vitamin supplements in order to get him to the right weight. Apart from that, he seems to be fine. The KGB were very diligent about his vaccinations, which is a blessing at least.”

“Yeah, a blessing…” Napoleon glanced at his son, who beamed at him, “… come on kiddo. We’ve got a couple of hours to kill before we meet up with Waverly.”

“Kill hours?”

Napoleon winced, “Figure of speech… come on, I think there’s a wooded area near here.”

He headed towards the exit, paused and glanced back at Illya. Illya hadn’t moved.

“Come on…” 

Illya seemed very surprised at Napoleon’s request, but hesitate for too long just in case Napoleon changed his mind. Without saying another word to one another, the pair and Lyov went outside. Almost as soon as they left the facility, Lyov’s eyes grew wide as he glanced around, clearly trying to take everything in.

“What’s wrong kid?” asked Napoleon, frowning as his son didn’t even glance at him when he spoke, “Haven’t you ever seen trees or grass before?”

No answer.

Napoleon turned his attention to Illya and frowned, raising an eyebrow. Illya simply sighed, “He has…. But not often. When he was being transported to other compounds, he would spend some time outside.”

“How much time?”

Illya winced at this, “I don’t know… I may have been the one to carry him, but when it came to his training and the transportation details, I wasn’t told much.”

Nodding in understanding, Napoleon chose not to say anything, simply placing his squirming son on the ground. Almost immediately, Lyov rushed off diving into a perfect handstand, before tumbling into a forward’s roll.

“Did you see me Papa? Did you see me Dad?” he laughed, beaming up at the two men.

Still preening slightly at being called Dad, Napoleon was shocked when Illya got to the ground, mock-growling as he lifted his son into the air. “You’ve been working on your gymnastics, haven’t you?!”

“Da! I can stay in a headstand for over half an hour!”

Whilst Napoleon didn’t think this was entirely possible or healthy, Illya clearly didn’t care, kissing his son on the cheek. Even though Lyov hadn’t had much in the way of positive, loving contact, he still acted like any other five-year old being kissed by a parent.

“Papa!” He squirmed in embarrassment, “Nyet!”

Illya just grinned (a sight that Napoleon could never get used to), before mock-pouting at his son. “Don’t you love me?”

This changed Lyov’s mood immediately, the five-year then desperately trying to reassure his Papa by kissing him repeatedly on the cheek. “Nyet! Nyet! Love you Papa!” He twisted around and grinned at Napoleon, “And you Superman Daddy! Love you too!”

Napoleon watched in amusement as Illya laughed, placing Lyov back on the ground so that the child could run off and continued to play. After around half an hour of frantic rushing about and rolling about in the grass, Lyov suddenly stopped and leapt into a defensive position.

“Lyov?” Illya’s hand moved towards the back of his belt, clearly wary of whatever the child had spotted or heard. “Lyov, what is it?”

Lyov barely moved, and if it wasn’t for the way his eyes darted from side to side, Napoleon would compare him to a statue. Glancing in the direction that Lyov was facing, Napoleon could see something… or someone moving in amongst the trees.

Silently gesturing for Illya to draw his own weapon, Napoleon removed his gun from a back holster and aimed at whoever was moving about in the trees. However, before he could say anything, Lyov suddenly took off in a run.

“LYOV NO!”


	7. Sudden Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)
> 
> ………………..

To be honest, Napoleon felt sorry for the poor Agent.

Having a five-year-old run towards him, clearly preparing to attack must have been a startling experience, and he was very lucky that Illya’s reflexes were quick.

Before Lyov could leap at the Agent (who was only delivering a message to the couple), Illya managed to grab the child and hold him in a secure hold, muttering to him in Russian as Napoleon scolded the Agent for ‘sneaking about in the woods, ready to give people heart attacks.’

As Illya calmed Lyov down (and it was concerning to see just how quickly Lyov could fly into assassin mode), the Agent stated that Waverly would like to see Napoleon, Illya and Lyov in his office.

So, with a pouting Lyov in his arms (his ears still probably ringing from Illya’s scolding lecture), Napoleon and Illya made their way to Waverly’s office, cautiously knocking on the door as the sound seemed to echo throughout the long corridor.

“Enter.”

Slowly, Illya eased the door open, allowing Napoleon to go first, before entering himself. Seated at his desk, Waverly seemed engrossed in his paperwork, pen scribbling on the paper as the small family waited awkwardly in the doorway.

“You can sit down you know…” Waverly chuckled, “… I’ll only be a minute.”

As they sat down, Napoleon was forced to tighten his grip as Lyov wriggled, wanting to explore the new room. Eventually, Lyov settled down, just as Waverly signed the last signature on the last piece of paperwork.

“Now gentlemen…” the Head of UNCLE began, putting his pen down and giving the family a soft smile, “… now that we’ve established that the KGB haven’t left us any surprises, and you two appear to have had a much-needed chat, it’s time to talk about your future.”

Napoleon blinked in confusion, “Our future Sir?”

“Yes. As agents of UNCLE. I assume the pair of you want to raise Lyov together?”

Feeling Illya tense up beside him, Napoleon was quick to answer, wanting to reassure his partner as quickly as he could. “Of course, if that’s possible?”

“Oh it’s perfectly possible…” Waverly stated, “… we’re a very modern organisation. If you two want to continue going on missions together, then we can certainly arrange that.”

“How?”

“Well, due to a number of women now being employed by UNCLE, I have decided to try and set up a nursery for any children who may be related to our employees. This will be where children will stay when their parents are working.”

Illya frowned, “What about school?”

“Here I defer to you… how is his education level?”

“He speaks at least five languages…. That I know of.”

“And what about Maths, Geography, History?”

“Yes, to the first two… but I think they would have only taught him Russian history.”

Waverly frowned at this. “That’s a bit… narrow-minded?”

“It is the KGB way. Russia must be seen as strong and righteous in every aspect, so they only present one side of the argument. With every other subject, it is important to know as much as possible, but with History… he may struggle.”

“Alright… well we can get him enrolled in a nearby school if need be, which will take care of any daytime missions. During the evening, is there anyone who you trust to take care of him?”

The pair thought to themselves for a few moments, before Illya hesitantly answered. “Well… we were hoping that Gaby might help.”

“Yes…” continued Napoleon, “… and if she’s on a mission with us, then maybe… you could.”

Waverly frowned in confusion, “Me? You would want me to take care of your son when you’re on missions?”

Glancing at each other in slight alarm at the lack of emotion in Waverly’s voice, Illya and Napoleon frowned. “Well…” began Napoleon, “… We do trust you Sir. I know that this isn’t really in your job description, but you know all the details about Lyov. Yes, he’s still a child, but he’s a child who reacts a certain way when faced with a threat.”

Almost immediately, everyone’s thoughts turned to the scene back in the KGB safehouse and then, how Lyov reacted when faced with the perceived threat of the agent.

Waverly was clearly thinking to himself, forehead furrowed in thought as his eyes focused on an unseen point in the distance. “I’m… I’m not sure.” He confessed, “I have very little experience with children… I can hire a nanny for the evenings that you two and Gaby are occupied, but as for my own involvement… it is something I’ll have to think about.”

Nodding their acceptance, Illya and Napoleon went to change the subject… only for the door to the office slam open and Waverly’s personal assistant burst in.

“Sanders is here…” the poor woman blurted out, “… the doormen weren’t able to stop him sir.”

Waverly shot to his feet, a frown on his face as he made his way around the desk. “What?! We don’t have anything scheduled!”

“We told him that Sir, but he said that he didn’t need an appointment.”

“Everyone needs an appointment! It’s just rude otherwise!”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Napoleon resisted the urge to smile at Waverly’s British-ness. 

They did have a problem however.

If Sanders really was in the building, then he could really only be here for one reason.

Lyov.

“Sir, is there another way out of this room?” Napoleon asked, slight desperation in his voice, “Preferably one that takes us as far away from Sanders as possible?”

Sadly, Waverly shook his head, his eyes focused on the door as the sound of Sanders berating some poor UNCLE agent could be heard down the corridor. Lyov, who could clearly sense the tension in the room, huddled up against his Papa, burying his face into Napoleon’s neck in an attempt to hide.

Carefully, Napoleon handed the small child over to Illya and moved to stand in front of them, hoping to shield his child from his old boss.

Literally seconds later, Sanders entered the office, only to come face to face with Waverly.

“I don’t recall having a meeting booked with you today…” started Waverly, “… I’m sure if you actually speak to my assistant, rather than push past her, then she’ll be able to check my schedule for the upcoming week… or month and fit you in.”

Sanders just sneered, “Really? Are you telling me that I’d actually get to see you,,, or would you continue to find excuses until the problem went away.”

“… What do you want?”

Sanders glanced over towards Napoleon and the two hidden behind him. “You know why I’m here. I’m here for the child.”

“No!” blurted out Napoleon in protest, “That wasn’t the agreement and you know it!”

“Agent Solo is correct…” Waverly sighed, “… as I recall, the agreement was that if Lyov showed no signs of being able to blend into normal society as a regular child, then the CIA could have custody of him.”

“Precisely.” Sanders seemed very pleased with himself, “Don’t think that the news of a child who managed to take down two KGB agents hasn’t reached CIA headquarters. It’s obvious that he won’t be able to just lead a ‘normal life’.”

“He was brought into this building only a few hours ago!” Waverly growled, his British politeness being thrown out the window, “You haven’t given him the chance!”

“Surely the fact that a small child could take out two highly trained KGB agents is reason enough to take him. Imagine what could happen if someone shouted at him, or made him feel threatened? We’d have a murder case on our hands!”

“That’s all hypothetical! You can’t know that that would happen!”

“Even hypothetical situations may happen, and therefore, there is still a risk.”

“I won’t do anything…”

Everyone turned to look at the child huddled in Illya’s arms. During the course of the argument, Lyov had twisted around to glare at Sanders… although he did keep a tight hold of Illya’s jumper in case the CIA agent tried to grab him.

“… I promise.” The five-year-old continued, “I won’t be bad!”

Sanders just shook his head, “Kid… I can’t trust your word. You don’t know how you’re going to react in the future, and the paperwork for a teacher with a slit throat is hell.”

Lyov winced at the blunt way that Sanders highlighted his… vicious side. His fingers tightened on Illya’s jumper as the Russian held him closer.

As Sanders stepped closer, Napoleon stepped forwards to meet him, his fists clenched in preparation for a struggled.

“Not one step closer…” he hissed, keeping his eyes on Sander, despite Illya whispering behind him that he himself “should take care of the cocky American.”

Seeming to notice that he was severely out-numbered, Sanders stopped where he was and glanced around. “Do you really want to risk your organisation?” he asked Waverly, sneering as the Brit straightened up, “Because I know for a fact that the CIA has a lot of lawyers that could do with their cages being rattled… And I’d be happy to rattle them.”

“You would sue us for custody of Lyov?” Napoleon exclaimed in shock, “You don’t have a case!”

“Lyov is a project between the KGB and the CIA. With the KGB having forfeited their rights after breaking our contract, the CIA now have sole rights…. Lyov belongs to us.”


	8. A Moment of Worry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)

“You would sue us for custody of Lyov?” Napoleon exclaimed in shock, “You don’t have a case!”

 

“Lyov is a project between the KGB and the CIA. With the KGB having forfeited their rights after breaking our contract, the CIA now have sole rights…. Lyov belongs to us.”

 

………………………………………………………

 

Lyov belongs to us.

 

Lyov belongs to us.

 

Lyov belongs to us.

 

Napoleon could hear those words repeating over and over again in his mind, making him feel sick.

 

It had been weeks since Saunders had told them about the upcoming lawsuit, and everything had been quiet… ish. Waverly had gathered every available lawyer in order to prepare for the day that the lawsuit paperwork would come through.

 

Aka, today.

 

However, it hadn’t been sent to UNCLE headquarters… it had been sent to their personal address, meaning that Saunders knew exactly where they lived.

 

It was a sickening thought.

 

Which didn’t really explain why Napoleon was re-reading it for the tenth time, whilst Illya was finishing off some paperwork and Lyov was playing ‘Superman’ in the front room.

 

Okay, he was leaping off the sofa and into a forward roll as he pretended to fly to the rescue, but it was still playtime, and Napoleon didn’t want to stop that…. Not when Lyov had spent so little time playing.

 

“You look worried…”

 

Napoleon glanced up at Illya, who was staring at him in concern.

 

“… what is that?”

 

He tried to hide the letter, but it was too late…. Illya darted forwards and snatched it out of his hands, his eyes scanning the page as his face twisted in confusion.

 

“… How did he get our address?”

 

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

 

“Do you believe UNCLE gave it to him?”

 

Napoleon shook his head as he pulled out his phone, “Waverly wouldn’t let that happen…. Not willingly anyway.”

 

“… I will pack our bags.”

 

………………………………………………………………

 

“Are wizards real Daddy?” Lyov asked, glancing up from the first Harry Potter book, “Because I want to go to Hogwarts.”

 

Napoleon glanced back, his eyes widening at how far into the book Lyov was. “When did- “

 

“- I start it? This morning.” Lyov beamed at Napoleon, before turning his attention to Illya, “So are wizards real?”

 

“No, I am afraid not.”

 

“Oh….”

 

Lyov seemed to just accept this, and continued to read. Satisfied that the child was distracted, Napoleon turned to Illya.

 

“Did you have to tell the truth like that?” he whispered, “Couldn’t you have let him believe that magic was real? Most five-year olds do…. Is the reading thing normal by the way?”

 

“Enhanced reading speed is a requirement for all agents… even children.” Illya sighed, “And I will not lie to him… I do not think I can.”

 

“Why? Is he some sort of lie-detector as well?!”

 

“No… I will feel bad if I do.”

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Gentlemen…” Greeted Waverly, welcoming the three into his office, “… Thank you for getting here so quickly.”

 

“Did you get my message.”

 

“Yes Agent Solo, and let me tell you, I am going to get to the bottom of how Saunders found out your address… do you have the court summons?”

 

Napoleon nodded, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out the letter, quickly handing it over for Waverly to scan.

 

“Everything written in this document is nothing new…” Waverly eventually concluded, “… all these threats were made when Saunders was last here.”

 

“And?”

 

“… And I have suitably prepared our lawyers for this. They can deal with it.”

 

“Except, we’ll have to reveal all the nitty gritty details about how Lyov came into the world… I know it’ll be a private court, which only the CIA and the KGB would be privy to… but- “

 

Here, Napoleon stopped, turning to Illya before he could say anything more…. What would be said next, was entirely up to Illya.

 

Minutes ticked by, as Napoleon continued to glance over at Illya. Waverly quickly noticed the tension, choosing not to say anything as he waited patiently.

 

Eventually, Illya sighed. “Let us just say that Lyov… did not come into the world in usual way. I would prefer to keep this information away from the CIA bas- “

 

“- Illya!”

 

Illya glanced down at Lyov, who was still focused on his book, and barely paying attention to anything around him.

 

“My apologies…. What do American lawyers have in mind?”

 

Waverly clearly knew they weren’t telling the whole truth, but once again, he didn’t pursue the matter any further and reached into one of the drawers built into his desk, pulling out some papers and sliding them over to the pair.

 

“This is everything that I and the lawyers have discussed since we learnt of Saunders’ court-suit. It details a draft opening statement, the witnesses we could use and preparation against cross-examination.”

 

Pulling the papers closer, Napoleon and Illya read over the words.

 

It was an interesting layout and did prepare for every eventuality that the CIA might throw at him…. Napoleon still wasn’t convinced.

 

“What if the CIA throws a surprise at us? Will the lawyers be prepared for that?”

 

Waverly frowned at him, “These are the most well-payed lawyers in the entire country, graduating top of their class. I think they’ll be able to manage whatever curveball the CIA throws at use.”

 

No… still not convinced.

 

………………………………………………………….

 

“What is zis music?”

 

Napoleon glanced up from all the lawyer paperwork and smirked at Illya, “Frank Sinatra, My Way… a classic.”

 

“Is that why Lyov is sleeping?”

 

Getting to his feet, Napoleon peered over the desk… only to smile softly when he saw his son curled up on the rug by the fire, the Harry Potter book in one arm and the Superman figure in the other. Numerous toys surrounded him, including toy trains, lego and a brand-new teddy bear.

 

“Huh… I guess all the excitement today tuckered him out.”

 

Ilya raised an eyebrow, “Excitement? All we did is sit in boring office, listening to boring people.”

 

“And Lyov listened to every word... do you think he understood it?”

 

Thinking to himself for a few short moments, Illya shook his head. “Not all of it, nyet. Law was not in daily lessons.”

 

“The KGB aren’t to big on followings things like rules or laws huh?”

 

Illya didn’t say a word, simply raising his eyebrow in a silent challenge, his face not even moving when Napoleon smirked at him.

 

“Bedroom?”

 

“… Da.”

 

………………………………………….

 

Lyov hummed happily as the warmth spread through his bones, pulling his Superman figure closely as slowly, he swam back into consciousness.

 

The room was empty.

 

When he had gone to sleep, his Papa was working at his desk…. Now there was nothing.

 

He knew he shouldn’t…. but he was tensing up, his mind instantly racing and thinking of every possibility.

 

Were there attackers in the house?

 

Has someone managed to grab his parents and steal them away?

 

Had they…. Abandoned him?

 

Or was it all a dream?

 

Grabbing his book and Superman figure, Lyov shot to his feet and glanced around the room frantically. Once he was sure that his parents weren’t in there, he ran to the door and carefully listened out, his face pursed in concentration.

 

It all seemed silent at first… and then there was a dull bang from down the corridor, where his parent’s bedrooms were.

 

As silently as he could, he placed his book and his toy against the wall, hunkering down low and creeping along the ground until he reached the door of their room.

 

There was another bang, prompting Lyov to cautiously push the door open and peek inside.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

As soon as the sliver of light from the landing shone into the room, Illya prodded Napoleon’s shoulder.

 

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” he hissed, “Stop!”

 

Napoleon was quick to obey, pulling away from his lover in concern. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?!”

 

Shaking his head in reassurance, Illya silently gestured towards the beam of light that was shining on their bedside table. Whilst Napoleon tensed briefly, he quickly realised who was on the other side of the door and chuckled, rolling off of Illya and onto his back.

 

“Lyov?!” he called out, “Lyov, if you want to come in you can…. We’re decent… unfortunately.”

 

The last part was muttered, but Illya still heard him, slapping him lightly on the arm as the door opened further and Lyov crept in, still in a defensive position.

 

As soon as he was sure that nothing bad was happening, and that there were no intruders in the house, Lyov straightened up and clambered onto the bed.

 

“I thought you left me…” He whispered, burying in-between the two and snuggling up to Illya, “… You weren’t there.”

 

Illya and Napoleon glanced at each other in guilt, before Illya pulled their son closer and gently ruffled his hair. “We will not leave you…” he whispered in the five-year-olds ear, “… we will never leave you.”

 

“Yeah…” Napoleon agreed, “… it would take Superman himself to take you away from us.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really, really!”

 

Lyov giggled, burying his face into Illya’s chest.

 

And then there was a loud knocking on the door.

 

“OPEN UP SOLO!”


	9. On the Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, after finally getting the Man from UNCLE DVD, I decided to crack on with the Napollya series I’ve been thinking of.
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy, and read/review :)

“OPEN UP SOLO!”

 

All three of them tensed at the sound of Sanders’ voice outside of the apartment, with Lyov burying his face into his Dad’s chest, soft whimpering making its’ way out of his mouth.

 

“Crap…” Napoleon muttered under his breath, grabbing his gun from the pillow and leaping out of bed (quickly putting on some pants) and cautiously heading towards the front door, “… crap, crap, crap.”

 

He then turned to Illya and winced, “Remember how I mocked you for having all those escape routes planned in advance… yeah, I’m going to need you to use one of them and get yourself and Lyov out of here.”

 

“I will not leave you here to- “

 

“- Illya, I’m not giving you a choice here!”

 

Before Illya could try and argue again, Napoleon turned around and glared at him. “Sanders want our son… now, you might be more than willing to fight with me like usual, but Sanders will just have another man sneak in and grab Lyov… you need to stay with him more than you need to stay with me.”

 

It took some time, but eventually Illya nodded in agreement, placing Lyov on the bed and getting dressed himself, whilst Napoleon continued to head towards the front door.

 

“Do you really want me to add attempted kidnapping to the lawyers list of charges they’re going to bring against you?!” he called through the wood of the door, “I’m sure they’d have a field day.”

 

“… I just want to talk Solo!”

 

“Yeah! And I’ve got a part playing Superman! I beat Ben Affleck to the role, can you believe it?!”

 

“Let us in Solo!”

 

As Napoleon continued to tease and torment Sanders, Illya lifted Lyov back into his arms and headed towards the corner of the room, pulling at a small book on the bookshelf, which caused a small panel to open. Once he crawled inside, the door shut behind him and they began to make their way through the dark, damp tunnel.

 

“What about Daddy?” Lyov protested as Illya pushed him forwards, “We can’t leave him!”

 

“Napoleon knows what he is doing. Keep crawling.”

 

“But- “

 

The sound of gunshots echoed throughout the tunnel, prompting Lyov to twist around and try and force his way back.

 

“We need to save him!”

 

“We need to save you!” Illya pulled his son in front of him and made sure the child was looking at him, “You are important here… Napoleon can handle himself, the Americans do not really want him, they want you. If they get you, they have won.”

 

More gunshots and the sound of Napoleon yelling.

 

“But- “

 

“- But nothing. Now keep moving. We must get out of here.”

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“What do you mean they’re nowhere to be found?!” Sanders snarled at his agent, who was looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here, “There is one entrance and exit, the windows were all covered, how did they escape?!”

 

“We aren’t entirely sure Sir. We believe there is probably a secret exit somewhere in the apartment, but we are having some trouble finding it, and- “

 

“- and even if you do find it, they’re probably long gone by now.” Sanders groaned, before swearing furiously under his breath, spinning around and punching the wall.

 

“Watch it…. I’ve just painted that.”

 

At Napoleon’s teasing tone, Sanders span around and glared at him.

 

Yes, they’d managed to subdue the ex-CIA agent, but lost the original target during the raid… the target and the ex-KGB agent… all in all, it was a disappointing day.

 

“Where would they go Solo?” he sneered, “We’ve surrounded all entrances and exits to the UNCLE headquarters… they have nowhere they can be safe.”

 

“You’re seriously trying to play that card?” Solo shook his head in mock disappointment, “You know what Illya is capable of. CIA agents are like toddlers to him.”

 

“With a child in tow? He’ll never make it.”

 

Solo just shrugged, infuriating Sanders and prompting him to backhand the man across the face. “He might be able to avoid us…” he sighed, smirking as Solo to tongued at his split lip, “… but he won’t be able to resist coming to save his darling boyfriend.”

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“What do you mean you can’t get a hold of them?” Waverly asked in concern, frowning at a worried Gaby, “They’re meant to be at the apartment, remaining low whilst- “

 

“- Some of our men spotted CIA agents lurking around the area.”

 

Waverly didn’t even flinch at the interruption, but his face did go pale when he realised what the implications of that statement meant. “You think Sanders has them?”

 

“I think Sanders is trying… something tells me he wouldn’t be able to resist boasting if he had Lyov.”

 

“Get our best men over there right away! If Sanders is anywhere he’s not meant to be, I want him dragged here! Unconscious if necessary!”

 

“Sir, yes Sir!”

 

………………………………………………………………………..

 

“We going to UNCLE?”

 

Illya pulled his son’s hat further over his eyes, glancing around to make sure no-one had spotted them, “Nyet…. We will have to remain low until UNCLE finds us.”

 

“What about Papa?”

 

“He will be fine. It is not him Sanders is after.”

 

He gently took his son’s hand and tried to encourage him to walk… only for there to be resistance.

 

“He wants me… what if he hurts Papa to get to me?”

 

Illya winced at this, deciding to lift his son into his arms and keep moving, “Your Papa can handle himself… we however, need to keep moving. He is not getting you.”

 

Huddling into his Dad’s chest, Lyov chose to remain silent, watching the world go by as Illya practically raced down the streets, trying to find the most obscure motel in the city.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

“This is definitely illegal kidnapping…” Napoleon mused in his cell, “… actually, come to think of it, isn’t all kidnapping illegal? Why do we feel the need to put an additional ‘illegal’ in front of it? Does it make it doubly illegal? Is the sentence higher if you add illegal on front of it?”

 

“Shut. Up. Solo.” Sanders growled from outside the cell, slamming his palm against the doors, “You’ve done nothing but talk since we got here, but you’ve said nothing important!”

 

“I know, it’s a special talent of mine. Have you talked to Waverly yet? Has he brought the cane out? A little bit of British discipline might do you some good…” Napoleon then stopped in his tracks and shuddered, “… and my mind went somewhere it really shouldn’t have gone. I’m not going to sleep in weeks with that image.”

 

Silence.

 

“Did I hurt your feelings Sanders? Or did I hit the nail on the head… this all just some kinky punishment thing between you and Waverly?”

 

More silence.

 

“… You’ve left, haven’t you? I’ve been talking to myself for ages haven’t i?” Napoleon glanced up at the camera in the top left corner of his cell, “Spoilsport.”

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

“Anything to report Gaby?”

 

Glancing around the apartment, having taken care of the CIA guards who were guarding the place, Gaby shook her head.

 

“Not much… bullet holes in the walls suggest a struggle and there is some blood on the wall, however, because it’s near the front door I suspect it might be CIA blood. They must have got off a few good shots.”

 

“Any sign of where they might have gone… or whether or not the CIA have them?”

 

Heading into the bedroom, Gaby glanced around and frowned. “There’s something… off about this place… something I’m missing.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Walking over to the bookcase, she started pulling at all the books… until she heard a click and a door opened up.

 

“I think I know where Lyov, and either Illya or Napoleon are… they had an escape tunnel ready for this occurrence.”

 

“Any idea where it leads?”

 

“Nope… but I think we’ve got bigger problems. One person would have gone with Lyov, whilst one stayed here to fend off the CIA…. I think one of them was captured.”

 

Waverly cursed furiously over the comms, followed by the sound of something banging against the desk. “Damn it Sanders…” he muttered, “…. Gaby, you try and find Lyov and whoever went with him. I’m going to put some pressure on Sanders. He can’t get away from the law this time, this is an unlawful kidnapping!”

 

“Sir, I- “

 

“- You heard me Gaby. As of today, we are at war with the CIA!”


End file.
